Lost in thought, she was unaware someone had opened the door to her room and stood watching her. She looked up and squinted at the dark figure framed in light, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the brightness. A woman of about thirty dressed in drab peasant clothing stood at the door, staring, her mouth open and eyes wide. She slid further into the room, allowing more sunlight in to penetrate the shadows, the dust motes swirling in her wake. Arabelle could now easily determine she was in a ship’s cabin with a low, wood ceiling and dark, heavy furnishings.

“May I come in, me lady?”

“Who are you?”

“Me name is Jessie. I just come to see if you need anyfin’,” the woman stated in a very heavy Cockney accent.

Arabelle stared at this woman, having no idea how to answer her question. “You want to know if I need anything?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Well,” she began, trying to contain her rage, “you can get me out of here.”

“We’re out to sea, mum. Far from the coast. You ain’ goin’ to be able to leave now.”

Arabelle jumped off the bed to look out of one of the small windows. This woman was telling the truth. In the distance, Arabelle recognized the faint coast of England, the white cliffs of Dover barely visible. We must be miles offshore.

“I cannot believe it. Where are we going and why am I on this ship?”

“I don’ rightly know ‘ow to answer those questions. I suppose you best ask the cap’n, mum.”

“Bring him to me at once, uh . . .”

“Jessie, mum.”

“Yes. Jessie.”

Jessie gave a clumsy curtsy and turned to do her bidding.

Confused and appalled at the audacity of the situation, Arabelle stared out of the window once more and uttered, "As long as I can see the shoreline, certainly my circumstances are not lost." Uncomfortable thoughts swirled through her head. She didn't appreciate the servant woman asking her if she needed anything, as if it were commonplace to find an abducted woman aboard the ship. She also questioned the woman’s need to lock the door behind her after she left the cabin.

Hearing heavy footsteps approach, Arabelle brushed down her skirts and smoothed her chestnut curls. Following the jingling of keys, a tall, well-built man with long, dark-brown wavy hair peered into the cabin from behind the door.

“May I enter?” he asked.

“Are you the captain of this ship?”

“Well, yes and no. Actually, I am the Master of this ship.”

“Then come in. Come in.”

His expression was stern, his brow furrowed, and the corners of his mouth turned downward. He stepped gingerly into the cabin, and she started to lose her patience. “I must apologize for the manner in which you were brought here. It was not my intent—”

She snapped to attention. “You are responsible for my presence on this ship?”

“Yes. I saved you, actually—”

“Saved me? You kidnapped me!”

“No. Well, yes, I suppose. But for good reason.”

She was right after all. He was a madman.

“You were in danger. There was a man with a knife. In the bushes. He was about to attack you while you were waiting for your carriage and I—”

She scanned the room for a weapon. Anything that might protect her from the lunatic standing before her. “I demand you turn this ship around and take me back to England. You can tell the constables in London your clever tale.”

He took an assertive step closer and she backed into the bedframe. “It is not a tale. You should be thanking me. That man could have killed you!”

There was no man. She was sure of that. The night before, she had been standing alone at the entrance of the manor when her carriage pulled up the drive. Her footman helped her inside and shut the door. The only other person nearby was the little stable boy she sent to fetch her coach, and he hardly seemed a threat as he skipped his way up the gravel path.

“If it is ransom you are looking for, you will have it.” Could he hear her heart pounding in her chest? “Turn the ship around and my father will give you what you want. As long as you leave me unharmed, he will pay you.”

A crooked grin crept upon his face, exposing a single dimple in his left cheek. “Ransom? You still believe me false?”

“Turn this ship around now, and I will not go to the authorities.”

He looked down at her with great interest, squinting his eyes as if to study her. For a moment, she was struck by their crisp blue color. They reminded her of something, someone, but she couldn’t quite place it. He held his gaze uncomfortably long without saying anything. Why he appeared bemused at her stern position, she did not know. She was a captive who wanted her freedom, and she was offering him an opportunity to not hang from the gallows upon their return. He should look relieved.

He crossed his arms on his chest, hesitated, and then rubbing his chin, replied, “I would love to help you, but I cannot turn this ship around.”

She tilted her head, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “And why is that?”

“We would end up off schedule and definitely off course. I must be at our final destination by a certain date, you see. If I were to turn around, too many people would be displeased with me, I am afraid.”

“You must be joking! I am not here of my own free will! I demand you turn this ship around!”

“I will not. I cannot.” He ran his hand through his unbound hair, then gestured to the dining table beside him. The collar of his shirt gaped open, and a seemingly fresh gash on his neck appeared. “Why not make yourself comfortable? I will have Jessie bring you some tea and something to eat, and you will feel much better.”

Her recalcitrance grew in intensity with his every word. She stared directly into his eyes as he spoke, burning with outrage. In an impetuous move, she rushed past the smug captain to the door, but just as she reached it, he approached her from behind and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the floor.

“How dare you, sir!”

She swung her arms wildly to fight her aggressor, but he seemed completely unaffected. He carried her over to the bed and dropped her gently into the center.

“Calm down, please. I will not harm you, Arabelle.”

She gasped, caught by surprise that this stranger knew her name and addressed her informally. There was no familiarity between them. Even if he were told her name by someone at the party, he should've addressed her as 'Lady Arabelle'. This was not a case of mistaken identity after all. He knew exactly who she was. “How do you know my name? Who are you?” She leaned away from him, confused and wary. It was all too puzzling. So far, he made no demands, giving her no indication as to what he wanted from her or why he held her prisoner aboard his ship.

“Jessie will return shortly with some tea and food. And when you are calm, we shall talk.” He backed away from the bed slowly, his arms out in front of him in a protective stance as he moved toward the door.

Before he shut it, she snapped, “Unless you turn this ship around immediately, we shall never talk.”

He bowed, shutting the door behind him. The ominous jingling of the keys in the lock followed.

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